you wasted your years on me
by Virbank
Summary: It's painful, watching you live in this sick admiration. — Black and Rosa, and all their anomalies
1. my best regards from hell

**a/n: cross-posted from ao3 and tumblr, here is a collection of black/rosa pieces! warning: unbeta'd**

**+standard disclaimer**

* * *

**my best regards from hell**  
(she is in the presence of a god — black, rosa)

* * *

She met him in Nimbasa, the land of shining lights and fast rides. He was there when she needed him, a stranger willing to listen to her problems. She had fled her hometown of Aspertia and he—

well, she wasn't quite sure why the hell he was there to begin with.

His name is Black and he is everything that Nate and Hugh are not, sarcastic and cruel and a complete asshole and absolutely _fucking_ perfect. A pro battler, obviously, with the way he is composed and the air his pokémon give off, all fully evolved powerhouses that could easily crush Unova's champion _and_ Sinnoh's former champion.

She finds herself drawn to the danger, the way he tells her he's back because _that fucking asshole came back before I could rip his throat out_ and she thinks that she could fall in love with him (maybe).

He is tall and mature and confident. She thinks he's modest, too, but he doesn't and she can't understand why. He talks about the champion in a way that doesn't sound like the champion—Iris doesn't steal hearts and throw them aside, nor is she a ruthless fighter. He scoffs at the other girl's name, though, and says something that sounds a lot like _she isn't even the champion_. It doesn't make sense but she ignores it because his is fascinating.

So, she tells him her dreams and he nods as though they were once his dreams, too.

"I guess I want to be champion, but I don't know. That's always been Nate's dream. And… I mean, I guess I also want to be a hero—you know the ones two years ago? Yeah, like them."

He shakes his head at the last bit scoffing at their mention, and she's suddenly angry. How _dare_ he insult the Heroes of Unova? He is old enough to know of them, and he is definitely from Unova. They are the reason he is alive, despite the fact they themselves went missing what seems like years ago.

She goes to say something, but he stands and clicks his tongue the way Cheren did way back when she started her journey.

"It's not like we wanted to save the world," he says before leaving her.

She is shocked and confused and doesn't know what the hell just happened, except maybe she was just in the presence of a god.


	2. peripheral

**a/n: basically cross-posting the two pieces this collection already has. FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT.**

**+standard disclaimer**

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**peripheral**

(and oh, he is gorgeous — black, rosa)

or, the story of a girl who fell in love with a stranger

* * *

Her status of champion is unquestioned.

It's not really something that can be questioned, either, because she's saved the world, and the former champion is still missing. The Heroes of Unova are mere legends now; almost non-existent, god-like figures that plague the minds of young children. Rosa's not sure whether to be happy with her title—she practically stole it from under her best friend's nose. Still, she can't help but to wonder what would happen if someone were to question her title, what sort of challenge they would bring.

Rosa meets said person in Nuvema Town.

She was originally there to see Professor Juniper when she bumped into the brunet boy. He looked ragged and tired and completely done with life itself (regardless, she thinks he is gorgeous). Juniper's friend introduced him as her son, Touya, but he tsk'd at the name and Rosa wasn't sure what to call him.

She introduced herself—"I'm Rosa, the, um, current champion of Unova."—and he scoffed in a fashion that seemed almost offensive, so she tried the next best thing—"I saved the world once."—and she managed to get a proper laugh out of him.

"Saving the world is a load of bullshit."

She stood, still and a little offended, before she came up with a half-assed retort that sounded a lot like _you should try it, then_ before he told her there isn't anything worth doing, not really. In that moment, fear and panic settled into the bottom of Rosa's stomach and she wasn't sure she liked it. She bristled in response, teeth slightly bared as he turned on his heel, his hand in the air.

"Fuck this, I'm out," he said, condescending and tired, and she thought she heard him chanting _white_ over and over like a mantra.

Rosa doesn't see him again after that, which is a relief, but he haunts her thoughts and she thinks she is going insane because she should not be hung up over a boy she's never met before. Except she's pretty sure she's seen him somewhere before, in a dream, maybe. It scares her, this sudden attachment to a stranger.

She's pretty sure if he kidnapped her that day, it'd be called Stockholm syndrome, but he didn't and it's not. She does some fancy jig in her dressing room while waiting for Deeoh, biting her lower lip—a habit that annoys the living hell out of Hugh—and Nate bursts in, a whirlwind of nervousness and innocence. Rosa thinks he looks like the mystery boy, but doesn't say anything because Nate assumes everyone hits on him and it's annoying.

"_She's back!_" he all but shrieks, making wild hand motions towards the door, as Deeoh steps in with a pretty, pretty brunette by his side. She reminds him of the Nuvema boy, with a tone of weariness and a raggedy appearance. Her jean shorts are ripped in places, and there are remnants of a black cardigan, shredded up to the middle of her ribcage.

"I'm," she breaths in a smoker's voice, "White. Or Touko. Or Whitlea. Doesn't really matter, you know?"

Rosa nods, and Deeoh explains she used to be a star before she dropped off the face of the earth, only to turn up in Sinnoh a year and a half later before taking her sweet time to come home. It makes sense; White has an air about her that screams regality. She keeps her words clipped as she meets Rosa and Nate, something almost like pity when they tell her about their adventures.

"Such a shame," she sighs, "the Hero of Truth strikes again."

Rosa blinks, because she's certain the comment is directed at her. White's gaze falls on her face, and it's like she's reading Rosa like a book, and she shakes her head. Reaching into her bag, White extracts a picture of the Nuvema boy, and Rosa's breath hitches. White tosses the photo to Rosa, and tells her she'll be back after the lunch break.

"Wait!" Rosa calls, but White's flipping her off and Nate tells her it's pointless. Together, they stare at the picture of the strange boy and marvel at how familiar he looks (and Rosa can't help but to think how much younger he is).

She's doesn't even know his name.

(she learns his name is Black, and she thinks it's fitting as she curses his name into the winds)


	3. in hindsight

**a/n: what the hell did I write?  
a/n: a lot of this is open-ended, so take it as you will.**

**+standard disclaimer**

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**in hindsight**

(to think, there was a time that I loved you. — black, rosa)

* * *

In some respects, Rosa was right. She'd always been right, and she'd always _be_ right, which made everything hurt on a higher magnitude, even though it wasn't supposed to. The entire point of their relationship had been something so insignificant the end result would barely be noticed. It was her idea, anyway, because flings—she could _do_ flings—flings didn't hurt like hell the next morning.

So she's not sure when whatever they were doing turned into something more, and she's a little bit terrified to pinpoint that time. Rosa's furious, too, because it _shouldn't_ have transformed into something other than a fling. They had been silly kids doing something gloriously wrong and yeah, it felt good at the time, but now? Rosa wishes she could go back in time and shake herself and scream, _what the hell are you doing?!_

Honestly, Black was a decent human being, even though it's partially his fault (and she wants to blame him, god she does, but that's not right, because she let it happen). It's true he's a manipulative bitch, but that's kind of what happens when you become a hero—Rosa would know. God, would she know.

Really, even though Hugh insisted that Black took advantage of her, Rosa knows it's still partially her fault, and, if anything, _she_ took advantage of him. It almost sickens her, how she entangled herself upon him, knowing what she did, but she won't—doesn't—feel bad about what she did. How could she? He still chose to pursue whatever relationship they had. He was broken and jaded and alone and she was lost and confused and—

well, they only really had each other.

Things were good—_they_ were good—for a while, and then White came back. Everything had gone to shit pretty fast, but that had been okay because they had been so, so self destructive, so toxic. The end was like a high, a rush of adrenaline that Rosa could've lived off of forever, but something felt wrong and out of place and things _hurt_.

In hindsight, everything that happened—everything was inevitable.

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**a/n: drop me a line?**


	4. burn your bridges

**a/n: cross-posted from ao3  
****a/n: aah it's been awhile since i've written something. unbeta'd.  
****a/n: black/white if you squint**

**+standard disclaimer**

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**burn your bridges**

(love is not an emotion I am familiar with. — black, rosa, white)

* * *

Day seven hundred forty-nine of his self-imposed exile, Black returns home. He returns with his bag of names safely tied to his bag, and his hair a wild mass of tangles. He returns without White, without N, without anything he had set out to bring home with him. Worse yet, he knows that they have, in fact, returned, but not because of him—never because of him—but because of some plucky teenage girl two years his junior. He returns home to White and her red lipstick and her sarcastic smirks working at Virbank with half of the Pokéstar Studio's staff wrapped around her finger. He returns home to N helping the newest champion, some bun-haired girl named Rosa, who wields her serperior like a goddamn genius.

When word gets out about his return, he gets a message, which is really more like a demand. He's to fly out to Virbank for a party—and that's kind of ridiculous, because _why_the _hell_ would he go to a _party_ after spending a little over two years _scouring the world_? Still, he owes it to Cheren to visit—Bianca, too. So he hops on his braviary and heads out west, to where his friends have gathered.

It's there that Black meets her, the plucky sixteen-year-old with dual buns and a ridiculous pair of shorts. He tries his very best to avoid her, and because of that, he's certain she tries even harder to talk to him. Black silently thanks her friends Nate and Hugh for distracting her, and for the very few gym leaders—Cheren, Elesa—that go out to show him what's changed since he left.

And really, at that point, after seeing the new studio, catching up with his friends, and a quick greeting from White that ended up with him spending several minutes in the bathroom wiping off her lipstick, he's ready to go to White's apartment—she invited him over, bless her soul—and crash.

But White's not done messing with Cheren and Bianca, nor is she done drinking, and he's fairly certain that Elesa and Iris will kill him if he even thinks about leaving before three in the morning. Instead, he goes out to a balcony, leaning against the rail and stares at the sky.

For the moment, he's pretty content with that, and White nods her head towards him, catching his eye as Chili twirls her. Then, Rosa comes bounding up to him and _goddammit all, he just wants to go to sleep_. He doesn't look at her, and it appears that she either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Hi!" she greets cheerily. "I'm Rosa! You're Black, right? Everyone's told me so much about you!"

It's past midnight and he's running on five hours of sleep, three glasses of champagne and a few bottles of beer—his filter is nonexistent.

"Oh, god," he says. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to deal with this. Are you just reading off of a script?"

Her smile slips off her face, and she places her hands on her hips. She's changed into a navy blue dress since he's last seen her, just as he's in a suit and White is in a dangerously gorgeous silk black dress.

"They never said you were an ass," she retorts. "God, you're just like White."

It elicits a laugh out of him, because where White is careful manipulation, he is shit-eating grins and how could she even expect that he'd stay the same after two years of travelling. It's certainly long enough to make anyone have their views on the world do a one-eighty.

"Well, I don't know what the expected. I've been gone for—"

"—two years, yes, I know. They've been worried sick about you. They didn't know how to find you. I think it nearly drove White mad," she says, cutting him off. There's a note of irritation in her voice and he can't really bring himself to care.

"I guess that's just too bad, then," Black responds. "That's just too bad. Why are you here?"

The question catches her off guard, and her response is a little guarded.

"You were the champion before Iris, right…? The one who ran away? The one who saved the world?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

She smiles and breathes, "I guess we have something in common, then."

He tilts his head towards her, still leaning on the balcony railing, and drawls, "Do we, now?"

Rosa isn't an idiot and she's damn well aware that he knows what happened since he's left, so she raises an eyebrow and gives him a look, the very kind that puts Hugh and Nate in their places. It barely works, so she goes for a more honest approach.

"I really admire you and White. I think what you did back then… was amazing."

Black gives in and picks himself up off the railing, sighing, "Do you really think there's a point in saving the world? It means jack shit."

Rosa feels herself falter at his words—_how can he say that?!_—and opens her mouth soundlessly. He shoves his hands into his pockets and begins to head towards the hall where White is chatting with Elesa. He's had enough.

Rosa stares at his back.

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**a/n: hopefully, the next installment will be an actors au.  
a/n: drop a line!**


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